Shards of a Broken Mirror
by insaneprincess
Summary: For the 100 Times Challenge on HPFC. Draco/Hermione. A collection of short drabbles. Chapter 20 - Loved. "And she felt like a broken mirror, sharp, and lost, and made up of only shards." Now Complete.
1. Noticed

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

This is for the 100 times challenge on HPFC. Various 'times' Draco/Hermione. There will be twenty chapters; these are basically drabbles for Dramione love :)

Some of these will be canon, others, not. They do not form a story, and they are not all about one relationship. As in, the next drabble after this won't be part of the same story of this one. They're merely random moments, from twenty different views of a Draco/Hermione pairing. Many will be angst, but some will be lighter. I hope you enjoy. :)

1. Noticed.

He never knew how it would end, but, strangely enough, he knew where it began.

She was so very different from him. He hated her. He hated her with everything he had. But that wasn't the point.

It was just a day – an unobtrusive day. A natural, typical, ordinary day.

He was walking to Transfiguration, a class he shared with her. He could remember every detail now, even though it was nothing then. It had been so very much of nothing.

The corner on the east wing, with the windows showing the courtyard. The scene of the – well, not crime. The scene where it all began.

Tuesday morning, 9:07. The bell would ring soon. He was very nearly late.

He was thinking about Quidditch, which was normal enough. And, as he was considering Ravenclaw's standing in the tournament, she ran into him.

This was unexpected, because, really, she was never late. But today, she evidently nearly was. He just froze sort of, looking at her. She was out of breath, her cheeks were rosy pink. Her hair was wild, like always, but the way that it fell around her, like curly ribbons of chestnut, was enthralling. And her eyes, amber and gold and dark chocolate coloured all at once, were looking at him, with no hate.

She was apologizing profusely, or had been, until she had seen who it was. At that point, she had frozen. She merely looked at him. She was expecting something. A cynical word, a biting comment.

None came.

He remembered helping her pick up her bag, and walking by her.

There seems, almost, like there is nothing of consequence that day. Surely, that night, he would not recall the encounter. But years later, he did. Years later, he knew exactly what had begun that day, that day where he had seen her, and almost thought her to be beautiful. That day when he didn't insult her, when he helped her without one cruel word. That day when, although he never realized it, he noticed her for the first time.


	2. Promised

Disclaimer: No, I don't own.

Second chapter, Promised. Enjoy, and please review :) This one is post-Hogwarts, pre twenties.

2. Promised.

When she had found out, she couldn't even begin to explain how happy she was. She hadn't even thought of the obstacles and all the problems. All she had known in that moment was the little pink plus sign on the pregnancy test. _They were going to have a baby._

Of course, she didn't think about the fact that no one even knew they were together. She was allowed a moment of awe to forget.

But this, this. This was what she had thought she was giving up in loving _him_. A family, and a home, and the suburban dream. This, she had longed for. And now, now! She was getting a dream come true.

Of course, they weren't married. But, they didn't have to be. Of course, her parents had never met him, and she had certainly never met his. But, they were going to have a child. It would be _theirs._ It belonged to them. God, they had made something beautiful, together.

She forgot the fact that there was still a war beyond her happy walls. That, although it was ending, it was still there. That, even if her side was winning, it meant his side was losing.

They had always known, of course, that it would be one or the other. They had known that one of them would end up hurt.

But did that matter now? They could have a family. A real family. She would be a _mother._

And she was so wrapped up in this, just sitting there, on the couch now, consumed by her thoughts, that she didn't even hear the door open.

And he was home. And oh, she could tell him about this crazy, beautiful miracle.

But his face… He was torn, and he looked disturbed and broken. And she knew what would happen now – he would say dangerous words that would ruin everything about this beautiful day.

And so, when he began talking, she remained silent. When he rubbed at his eyes, and said he'd be in jail soon, that it was ending, she didn't say a word.

When he had promised her that he would never tell anyone about them, she had believed him. When he had promised her that he would love her forever, she had believed him. And now, when he told her that his world was ending, crashing down around him, that he didn't know how long he'd be in Azkaban, she believed him. And she didn't say anything, just looked down at her stomach, and didn't tell him. Because she had never promised him the truth.


	3. Pretended

Disclaimer: I promise you, I do not own Harry Potter. Which really, is quite disappointing.

Alright, chapter three up in the same day! Well, this is actually light, and humourous, which is unexpected for me, because I hardly ever write humour, or light things. I really write mostly angst. Anyway, I hope you like it, and please review. Reviews make my day :)

3. Pretended.

When Draco Malfoy figured it out, he pretended he hadn't.

It was not that her hair suddenly looked pretty. It was just the sunshine. There must be something new about the sun. Really. Surely, her hair didn't turn golden like that before.

And her smile was only breathtaking now because she fixed up her awful buckteeth. It wasn't really all that nice. Just, different. And that of course changed his breathing habits. It was natural. It would happen to anyone.

And her skin was not really all that clear. And he only thought it was because… before, she had acne. Lots of it. And it was bad. So, he was _not_ admiring her skin. Just noting the difference. Like a before and after kind of thing. It wasn't as if he _cared._ It was just that he was observant. Of course.

And, well, her eyes. Maybe she put a spell on them? Really. They hadn't been that… deep before. He was sure. But, that didn't really matter. Noticing that they were different was not a crime.

And so, he testified these changes to the fact that he was observant, and not the other reason that his conscience liked to pester him with.

Like the fact that yesterday, she had insulted him, which was typical, and he hadn't said anything in response. He'd said their names, and glanced at her, and walked on by. And that bothered him, because he couldn't figure out for the life of him why he'd done it.

Maybe he'd just felt unexpectedly kind. Except, he could have made up for it this morning at breakfast, and he hadn't. And that just didn't make sense.

And his conscience was getting _really_ annoying.

He hated his conscience because it told him things that really weren't true. Like that she was _beautiful_. And that, well, that was completely stupid. How could she ever be beautiful?

And he didn't like his conscience because it never shut up. It said things in his head that made him notice things like her hair, and her smile, and her skin, and her eyes. Things he would not have noticed without it.

So Draco Malfoy pretended his conscience was wrong.

He pretended he wasn't in love with Hermione Granger.


	4. Impressed

Disclaimer: I do not own.

Well, three chapters in one day :) I hope you like this, and please review.

4. Impressed.

When she heard it, her jaw physically dropped.

It was impossible.

His name actually got called _before hers._

And that… was impossible.

McGonagall had an easy system. The best mark got handed out first, and so on, to the worst. You could breathe a sigh of relief the quicker you got your essay back.

And for the past… well, as long as she'd been at Hogwarts, her name had always been first.

And today, _Draco Malfoy_ had gotten a better mark than her.

She knew she wasn't just hearing things either. The entire class was gaping – at her, at McGonagall, and at the surprised looking spawn of the devil himself.

She was very pale now, and she couldn't seem to close her mouth as he rose and took his paper from the professor, a pleased look on his face.

It took her a moment to get hers. Because it had been called second. _Second._

For the rest of the class, her hand was lightning fast. She answered every question before McGonagall was done asking it. Her fingers were clenched tight around her quill, and Draco Malfoy smirked at her from across the room.

When the bell rang, she was the first one up and out of the classroom. Ron and Harry desperately tried to catch up.

She didn't yell, or rant, or scream in frustration, all of which were appealing.

"I'm skipping lunch," she told them firmly. They didn't try to stop her.

She went immediately to the library. She had to. She could never, never let this happen again.

So she went instantly to the familiar shelves, got six transfiguration books, and settled down at her favourite table. She would _kill _him in the next essay. Hers would be on top again. She would beat him.

She was so focused on this, she didn't hear the scrape of the chair across from her. She wasn't aware of his presence until the notable clearing of his throat.

The last person she wanted to see.

"Come to gloat?" she snapped.

He looked at her appraisingly. "No."

She dropped the book in her hand.

"I've come to praise you on what I'm sure was a well written essay."

She glared at him, and flipped through the book she'd dropped, trying to find the page she was on.

"I'm not joking. Really. And I wanted to let you know, because I'm sure you want to murder me, that I didn't cheat or anything. Or bribe McGonagall." He chuckled. "I'm sure you've come up with many explanations. Anyway, I just want to say that I'm working damn hard to keep my name on the top of the pile Granger, and that a little friendly competition would be lovely."

And with that, he stood up, and smiled at her. No smirk. A real, actual smile.

And he turned and sat down at a table a few away. A table, she realized, he had been working at as much as she had been working at hers.

It was with a jolt that she realized she was actually impressed with him and his dedication.

But, she knew, as she finally found the right page, she was going to work damn hard to make sure he never beat her again.


	5. Screamed

Disclaimer: I don't own.

Yet another chapter :) Set in the seventh book, when the trio are brought to Malfoy Mansion. Enjoy, aand please review. :)

5. Screamed.

It hurt to remember that night.

It hurt to know that he didn't do what he was meant to do. He had done what his father had wanted, and his mother wanted, and his aunt wanted, but he hadn't done what he had wanted.

He almost believed it was worse torture for him than her.

When they had shown up at the mansion, he had frozen. When he had looked at her, his heart had stopped.

It was her.

He hadn't seen her for a year, but she looked the same. There was that fire in her eyes he had missed.

And though her hair was longer, and thicker, and though there was something more mature about her face, her eyes were the same.

And so, when they had asked him if it was them, really them, he had hesitated. What could he say? Could he condemn them for saving the world? Could he destroy all hope?

For he believed in them. He did. At least, he hoped for them. He hoped because they had been gone this year. Because there was strength in their faces and fire in their eyes. Because they were born for this.

He wondered if he could regret his own bloodlines. If he could regret his own choices. He didn't think he could. But this one? Maybe he could.

The fate of the world held in his grasp.

He knew it was them.

But he said he didn't know.

And so, when he stood there, immobile with horror, when his aunt tortured a girl he would give the world for, he tried to tell himself he had done his best. He had tried to lie. He tried to save her from this. And he could not.

While she screamed, he dug his fingernails into his palms, and tried to tell himself that he had done his best.

When he pulled his hands away an hour later, her screams echoing in his mind, there was blood under his fingernails.


	6. Winked

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry Potter. But I really don't. If I did, Draco and Hermione would have been together the entire time. ;)

This one's lighter, funnier, cuter. No angst! Enjoy, and please review!

6. Winked.

She had discovered the amazing properties of a Charms book.

Besides being useful for information for class, it also worked as a hideout for practically all of your face, except for your eyes.

It worked because it made you look like you were reading, when you were in reality gawking at your nemesis.

Your very attractive nemesis.

Harry and Ron were discussing Quidditch, and paying no attention to her. And she had studied Charms all of yesterday, and… maybe the sun was getting to her.

She just… couldn't focus with him sitting there, leaning against a tree that was only approximately 13.5 feet away from her tree.

And so, she had adopted the game of looking at him without getting caught.

Maybe she needed more sleep?

She didn't know what had happened this year. It was just… he seemed so different after the chaos at the end of sixth year. He seemed so changed, and so mature. He hadn't insulted them once, and even seemed polite and kind. Ron was sure he was up to something, but she couldn't be so sure.

Plus, he'd certainly gotten much more handsome since last year. The lack of stress and secrets had obviously done him good, she mused, admiring his features. His silky golden hair, his chiselled jaw, and his stormy grey eyes, that were looking directly at… her.

Oops.

Oh god, she was blushing, wasn't she? What would he think? What was wrong with her?

And… oh, god no. Oh shit! He was getting up… He was walking in this direction. Now what would she say?

Harry and Ron had just noticed him, and Ron was glaring viciously, Harry looking on curiously.

But Mal—Draco, wasn't even glancing at them. He was looking at her, just her.

"Granger," he began pleasantly. "I would love to partake in another staring contest some other time, but unfortunately, now, I have Herbology."

She flushed red at his words.

Suddenly, he was crouched down beside her, very, _very,_ close.

"But," he breathed in her ear, "I expect I'll see you very, very soon."

Before she could even breathe, let alone speak, he was standing again. And the moment before he turned to walk away, Draco Malfoy winked at her.

He _winked_ at her.

It took her a full ten seconds to realize that before, he had slipped a scrap of parchment into her clenched hand.

Slowly, away from Ron's furious gaze, she unfolded the note, her eyes widening at the words written in his neat, slanted script.

_East Tower. Eight o-clock. Tonight._

She crumpled the paper in her hand, an involuntary smile spreading across her face.


	7. Escaped

Disclaimer: I Disclaim. ;)

Well, here's an alternate ending to the sixth book :) I don't own the line "Draco, you are not a killer." It's from the sixth book, spoken by Dumbledore, on the tower. Well, it's "Draco, Draco, you are not a killer." But I figure it's about the same thing.

Anyway, enjoy. And please review! :)

7. Escaped.

When he had sat in front of the old man and asked for help, he had ended up crying.

He hadn't meant to. It had just happened.

It was because of everything that had led him there, and everything that would happen after that moment. Because he had just changed his entire life.

He had never imagined he would sit in that seat and confess. He had never planned to. But, then again, he had never planned on her, either.

He didn't even quite know when it began. He had stopped talking to everyone. He was focused on the task. He was disturbed. No one talked to him. They knew better.

But somehow, just when he'd forgotten she'd existed, she was everywhere. And she started talking to him.

She knew. _She knew._

And he couldn't imagine how she knew. But she did. Because she told him that she knew. She told him that he wasn't the only one who'd ever entered the room of hidden things.

"What would you ever have to hide?" he'd asked finally, after a month of her pestering. He didn't want her to see how scared he was.

She looked at him for a long moment.

"Myself."

So, it had gotten to him. For months, she'd talked to him. And slowly, he started talking back.

He couldn't believe it when he started to trust her. It didn't make any sense. But he did. He knew he did.

And then she told him to go to Dumbledore.

He was furious about that. He didn't need anyone's help, and just because he held a few conversations with her didn't mean he had to do what she said.

But he was surprised. Because she seemed to trust him, too. Because she evidently hadn't told anyone about him and the room of hidden things. He knew she hadn't. And that made no sense.

And she kept telling him.

"It's not too late," she would whisper. "It's never too late. Don't let them decide who you are. Draco, you are not a killer."

He didn't even know why he'd snapped. He just had, and given in, and then, there he was, in front of the old man. She'd already explained everything, and she stood outside now, and he sat in front of the old man, and he cried tears that burned like fire.

He left fast. He didn't need anyone to see him cry. He needed their help, but he hated being weak. He'd been too vulnerable already, and the old man didn't deserve to see him cry.

He'd ran out of the office, nearly knocking into her, and he just kept going. He didn't know where, but he ran. It was the only thing that made sense.

He ended up by the lake, where he just lay down. There was no one around, and he was out of breath, and still crying.

And lying there, the first few trickling raindrops hitting him, he felt a small, warm hand take his. He heard the sounds of someone lying down beside him.

And he let himself cry. Because he'd hardly made it. Because she'd saved him. Because he had just barely escaped becoming what he feared the most.

He clutched her hand with all he had.


	8. Shocked

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I do not own Harry Potter.

This might confuse some people, as the drabble before this is also set in sixth year, and complete fanon -- Draco escapes a life as a Death Eater. This chapter, however, is based on canon. It takes place after Harry uses 'Sectumsempra' on Draco in Myrtle's bathroom, and Draco is seriously injured. Also noticeable about that event in the sixth book, is Hermione's scolding of Harry, and horror upon hearing about what happened, which this is kind of based on. This could be canon, as who really knows what happened that Harry never knew? Hermione visits Draco in the hospital after the event in this drabble.

Enjoy, and please review.

8. Shocked.

When Draco Malfoy wearily lifted his eyelids, he experienced the most shocking image of his life.

It was more unexpected than Harry Potter refusing to be friends with him. It was more alarming than Potter possibly being better at Quidditch than him. It was more frightening than the task he had been given at the beginning of the year. It was more distressing than the wounds the-Boy-who-appeared-to-be-friggen'-immortal had given him… an hour ago? A day ago? He didn't know how long he'd been out for.

The sight the shocked him to the point of speechlessness (impressive, really) was Hermione Granger, in all her Gryffindor glory, sitting on a chair beside his hospital bed, reading an Ancient Runes book.

He couldn't move, but he could lay there and silently gape at her for a long time. He would get to insulting her in a moment, once he got over his surprise.

Unfortunately, she noticed his opened eyes before he recovered enough to fire a witty retort in her direction. Which left him feeling stupid and helpless, and still furious at Potter.

Her cheeks flushed a little as she noticed his shocked stare. "Oh," she muttered, sheepishly. "You're awake."

He found his tongue again at that point. Because he needed it desperately.

"Damn right I am! What the hell are you doing here, Mudblood?"

She was completely unfazed by his cruelty, or the insult. She was chewing on her bottom lip, looking at him seriously. She seemed to be searching for words.

"I mean it, Mudblood. Why are you here? Going to finish what Saint Potter started?"

Her eyes hardened slightly. "Please, Malfoy," she said quietly. Like she was asking him for permission to speak.

He froze a little. She was being… civil. What was happening?

"Malfoy…" She took a deep breath, and looked at the floor as she began. "I know what happened. And I'm here because… I came to… apologize."

His eyes widened involuntarily. Apologize?

She turned her gaze away from the floor, and onto his deep grey eyes. She sighed. "I know this isn't my fault, so don't ask if it is. I just felt like apologizing for what Harry did to you, because it was wrong. And I warrant you deserved it Malfoy," here she laughed mirthlessly, "but, I guess I feel no one deserves this. So, I feel sorry. So I came here to apologize."

He just looked at her, certain there was something wrong with his ears.

"I'm going to go now," she said quietly, rising from her seat, slipping the book into her bag.

"Good, Mudblood. Go," he managed to choke out.

She turned from her exit of the infirmary. And the look on her face was impossible to understand. Her smile was almost playful, like she understood that he only said it for effect, to reassure himself. To make it seem like nothing changed. To make this seem like it wasn't real.

But the look in her eyes was sad. As if, even though she knew all of that, she wished he didn't need to say it. As if she wished things could be different. As if she wanted something beyond the empty insults, all the meaningless, hateful words.

While the door slammed shut, Draco Malfoy found himself wondering why it had ever shocked him that Hermione Granger would be there when he was hurt.


	9. Deserved

Disclaimer: Indeed, I do not own Harry Potter. It's kind of heartbreaking.

This is the longest chapter yet! :)

Ok, so I really don't know what I think about this one. I like it... but it really wasn't what I meant to write. This was supposed to be happy -- the line I was planning on was "Draco Malfoy deserved something to make him happy." But. That didn't happen. Because I write a lot of angst. Like, a lot. Angst is just my thing. So, even though this was going to be sweet and fluffy, I warn you, it's not at all. This ended up being about the idea of a suicide, which was pretty unexpected, frankly. It's dark, guys. I warn you of that. Dark angst ahead. I still like this, and think it's good writing. It just was not at all what I thought I would do with this word. Nevertheless, I present to you, chapter nine.

Enjoy, and please review.

9. Deserved.

When they had gone here, it had always been romantic.

Because it was beautiful. The sunset would seem to pause when they sat on that cliff. A cliff in the middle of nowhere. And if you were in the middle of nowhere, no one could find you.

That was why it was the ideal place for them. They were not meant to be together, they were meant to despise each other. What they had was forbidden.

He loved her. He knew he did.

But he didn't know if that was more important than the ink on his arm.

When she told him to meet her there that night, he knew it was not because it was romantic.

The sun was setting when he showed up. The sun was setting on her silhouette, standing tall and still at the edge of the cliff.

And when he approached her, he knew. He knew what she would do.

"No," he whispered.

She turned around. Barefoot, in her school uniform, she stood there, the sun setting behind her back. It seemed like it didn't pause tonight. It moved on without hesitation.

"Draco," she said quietly, firmly. "I deserve this."

"Deserve what?" he choked. "Death?"

"No," she breathed, turning her face back to the sun. "I deserve to let go. We both do."

He looked at her like she was crazy.

"I don't want to die," she whispered, terrified.

"Then don't do this," he said in a strangled voice.

"I'm not afraid of this," she breathed. "Do you want to die _like that_, Draco? Do you want to die in a war? Do you want to _live _in a war?"

She turned around, to see his broken expression.

"Can you imagine Azkaban Draco? Can you imagine how easy this would have been, and you would have wasted it? I can imagine the torture, Draco. I'm not living through it. I'll die, but I'll do it on my own terms. I'll die free falling, on the most beautiful night of the year, with your hand in mine. I'll die while a war starts. I'll die without living through that."

His eyes were hard. "And your friends?" he asked. "Do you really think they won't miss you? They need you. To win."

"Draco," she whispered. "I'm selfish."

He just looked at her. He knew he was walking closer to the edge. Maybe he had to. To breathe.

"I don't want to see them die, Draco. And I almost don't want to see them live, either. They'll be broken. So will I. I don't want that. I don't want to fall apart. I want to still feel alive."

She looked at the sun, burning like fire. "There's always that question Draco. Would you rather die young after the best day of your life, or die old, with years of misery? And I choose this. I choose to die after the happiest days of my life – the days with you. I choose not to try to live without you, or any one of my friends. I choose to end it before I only have days of misery. I can't be with you after this. The war ends the problems, but it also ends us. We can't hide. We'll be trapped."

His face was empty.

She took his hand. "The only thing we hang onto is life," she whispered. "We aren't letting go of each other. We're holding on even tighter. We're only letting go of a broken world. And Draco, we've deserved that all along."

He didn't even know if he agreed with her. But he would never change her mind, and he wouldn't lose her. He didn't need a war, and he didn't need anyone else but her. If she jumped, he did too. If she was not afraid of gravity, neither was he.

He held her hand tighter, and he didn't say any sappy words. He didn't need too. They knew each other better than anyone. There was nothing he could say that she didn't already know.

He held her hand, and together, they jumped.

Because maybe, she was right. Maybe he deserved to let go of a broken world. Maybe he deserved to let go of everything but her.

And when their bodies were found together at the bottom of that cliff, a week later, their hands were still tightly clutched together.


	10. Kissed

Disclaimer: Again, for the tenth time (halfway there!) I repeat: I d o n o t o w n.

A/N: HALFWAY THERE. Ten chapters done, ten more to come. And so, for the halfway mark, I thought Kissed was appropriate.

I warn you. I meant for this to be fluffy, and towards the end, it is. But prior to that... Well, I mean, the beginning gets kind of angsty. And also, this chapter is slightly more mature. I'm sure it's fine... especially after the double suicide last chapter ;) Anyway, this isn't enough to warrant an 'M' rating. I'm just letting you know, there is basically implied sex, or friends-with-benefits, ideas. It's still _definitely _a 'T' rating. But I thought I should still let you know.

(Last chapter was exactly 1000 words! I just thought I'd share that. I found it pretty cool XD)

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, and please review!

10. Kissed.

They weren't friends. And it wasn't some torrid love affair.

Very simply, because there was no love.

They both knew it made no sense. How, one minute, they could be screaming at each other, and the next, they were locked at the lips. How the passion of anger turned into the passion of lust. They didn't understand it, but they never questioned it.

It was some kind of unspoken agreement. It was never to be mentioned – what they did, who they were. No one would ever know about the desires, hidden almost always. They would never know about the stolen glances. No one would ever know. Hell, they themselves hardly knew.

When those striped ties were around their necks, they were rivals. They were enemies. She hated him for his arrogance and his cruelty. He hated her for her blood and her wit. They never stopped fighting.

Even without those uniforms that bound them to the status as rivals, they hated each other. They were more than silver and gold.

But somehow, in the midst of the insults and the anger, they would end up pressed up tightly together, and they would be breathing hard. They would look at each other, and they would say that they hated each other.

And then the ties would be ripped off, and the desire would consume them.

; ; ;

She hated the reflection.

Her hair was wilder than she imagined it could be. Her cheeks were red, her eyes were sharp.

And there was a bite mark at the base of her neck.

When she traced her fingers over the indentation, she felt tears gather in her eyes.

; ; ;

When he rolled over that morning, she was gone. She always was.

Because they both knew, everything looked worse when the sun was up. And it had never even looked good at the blackest of midnights.

He rubbed at his eyes, wondering why he felt disappointed every morning after, when he woke up alone.

; ; ;

He couldn't explain why he was looking for her.

He was acting on a feeling, and he didn't know the right words to say, and he didn't know if he even should say anything, but he knew he had to see her.

What was so different about this time, unlike every other?

He didn't even know. Maybe it was because it was the seventh morning that he hadn't woken up to the sunrise and her warm body beside him. Maybe that was his breaking point.

When he found her, she was alone. Her face was blank and bitter, and she looked almost as if she'd been crying. He was extremely tempted to say something cruel. That was his gravity around her. That was their balance.

But he couldn't. Because… well, he didn't even know why. But he knew it wasn't what he needed.

"What do you want Malfoy?" she asked, her voice cold and bitter.

That was frustrating. He didn't know the answer to that question.

So he went with impulsiveness, and spoke. "I want to understand."

She rolled her eyes, still looking fragile. "Understand what?"

"Us."

She looked at him blankly, wiping her eyes. "What do you mean Malfoy? There is no us. We hate each other."

"Granger, if we hated each other, what happened last night?"

Her eyes flashed. It was their unspoken rule to never bring it up. And he just had.

Coldly, she gathered her courage. "That doesn't mean that we don't hate each other."

"No, maybe not," he conceded. There was an idea in his head, and he didn't know why, but he needed it. He craved it. And, without stopping himself, or denying the truth for once, he went with it.

"But maybe," he breathed, standing very close to her now. "This does."

And with that, he kissed her.

It was certainly not their first kiss, and he was sure it wouldn't be their last. But it was the most significant. Because this kiss wasn't hard, or lustful. It wasn't about some loveless passion, or some hateful desire. It was sweet. It was beautiful. And it was real.

It wasn't part of some secret agreement. It wasn't about being enemies-with-benefits. It was about being themselves. It wasn't about hiding feelings they both pretended didn't exist, because it was just too wrong. It wasn't about hiding anything. It was about caring and trusting and liking, and another L word that he didn't dare to consider about his feelings for her.

It wasn't a kiss where they tried to dominate each other. It was about finding something beautiful together.

And when they pulled apart, and looked into each others' eyes, they knew they had both felt it. Whatever would happen, they couldn't go back. They could only go forward. Together.


	11. Regretted

Disclaimer: I don't ownnnnnnn.

A/N: Okay, here's chapter 11, guys! Closer to the end of this every chapter :)

This chapter is based off the premise of my one-shot "Her Moment". They're not entirely the same, but they have a similar idea, and could even be considered part of the same story. Anyway, if you enjoy this chapter, you may enjoy that as well. It too is Draco/Hermione.

Enjoy, and please review.

11. Regretted.

It had broken his heart to do it, but he knew he had to.

It had gone on long enough.

No, he didn't really believe that. But he was trying to get himself to. Because it was wrong, to be with her. It was wrong to want her opinion on things, and to listen to her vent, and to kiss her softly like they were happy.

It was just wrong.

Besides, he was ending it for her. It wasn't safe for her to be with her. He had ink on his arm – and she knew that, too. But she still trusted him. As if that was all that mattered when you were living in a war.

She wouldn't let him end it for her, of course. She wouldn't understand how he couldn't be with her, because it put her in danger. But, if she knew he was breaking her heart to keep her from getting hurt… she wouldn't let him go.

So he had to lie.

He didn't want to. But he had to. For her. And also for him. He was in too deep. He wasn't allowed to be with her. He was meant to hate her. He was meant to kill her. They were on opposing sides. And if he saw her on the battlefield, he would shoot a Killing Curse at her without hesitation.

This wasn't Romeo and Juliet. He wouldn't die for her. He had to save himself, and his family. And she was just some girl, who he'd get over eventually.

So when he met with her (in secret, as always. And thank god for that, because then he didn't need to deal with the entire school's reactions) he was ready. She looked happy to see him, which made it worse.

But he said it.

He told her it was fake. He told her he hated her. He told her that she was never good enough, that he never loved her, that she was so naïve and stupid, so easy to _use. _

He called her Mudblood for the first time in a year.

And when she cried, he walked away, and told himself he did the right thing.

He ignored the pain in his chest, and the little voice in his head that told him he was wrong.

; ; ;

It had been many months, until he saw her again. He would be lying if he said he didn't think about her. He thought about her everyday.

He missed her everyday.

He hadn't realized that he had already been in way too deep.

He loved her. He really thought he did.

And it was too late.

Because the next time he saw her was across a field of broken bodies, through smoke and flashing lights, with blood running down his face.

Covered with dirt and blood, barely alive, he thought that she had never looked more beautiful.

He also saw her hand, tightly holding Weasley's.

It surprised him, how much it hurt.

He had let her go. Had he really believed she wouldn't move on? She probably hadn't felt this deeply for him. He had done the right thing. He had slipped away, and managed not to get hurt.

But as he looked on, at the way her hand clutched at Weasley's, he had to ask himself again. _Really? You got away without getting hurt, huh?_

It took him until that moment to realize how much he regretted letting her go.

He kept looking at her. She never saw him. He didn't expect her to.

"_And if he saw her on the battlefield, he would shoot a Killing Curse at her without hesitation."_

He didn't raise his wand.

He had wreaked her happiness once before. He wouldn't do it again.

He turned away from their held hands, and returned to the battle raging around him.


	12. Murdered

Disclaimer: I / d o / n o t / o w n /.

A/N: Well, here's more angst. I'm sure you can gather that from the chapter title...

Anway, Enjoy. And, of course, reviews are love. :)

12. Murdered.

He really could not help his hand from trembling.

He had thought he could handle it. He had thought that he was brave and bold. He had thought that he had recovered since the problem with Dumbledore. Then, he had fumbled because he was younger and more naïve and foolish. But he was ready now. And besides, he had known his Headmaster. He didn't know this lowlife squib.

And he was starting to find that a lot worse.

Because if he didn't know this guy… he could imagine that he had a good life. That people loved him. That killing him was wrong, wrong, _wrong._

He wasn't supposed to think that way.

But he was still standing there, wand out in front of him, trembling, unsure.

And it was not because of himself.

_He_ was a lost cause. A sacrifice of war and darkness. He had accepted that over the years. He did not hesitate over his first possible murder because of himself.

He did not hesitate because of the man he didn't know. But he probably would not have considered that stanger's life and happiness and ambitions as much without the reason for pausing.

His reason for pausing was safe, fast asleep, in Gryffindor tower.

His reason for wanting, if only for a moment, not to kill was Hermione Granger.

He knew he wasn't cut out to be a murderer in the first place. Even without her warmth and strength, he wouldn't _want_ to do this. But he would do it. He hesitated before Dumbledore because he was scared. He was scared of the power that came with removing someone from the world forever.

He was used to that now. Now, he was afraid that he was destroying every hope he had. He was afraid that if he chose this path, the one without her, the one that meant killing this man, he would be choosing wrong.

He knew she wanted him to be stronger than this. He knew she could not love a killer.

Neither could he. But a long time ago, he had given up on himself.

Until he found her.

And then the man looked up at him helplessly, and he froze.

He had brown eyes.

_She had brown eyes._

And his hand wavered, and he couldn't think. All he could see was her, polluting his mind, changing the air. He was gasping, and hoping, and didn't know what was happening.

He could not fail this task, or he was dead.

But if he failed in loving her, he was worse than dead.

He raised the wand, his hand was steady. He didn't let himself think.

He had picked his course from the moment he was born. She was just some obstacle on the way.

"_Avada Kedavra."_

And after Draco Malfoy murdered for the first time, one solitary tear ran down his cheek, and he knew he could never hold the girl he loved again.


	13. Chose

Disclaimer: I shall always disclaim Harry Potter. It irritates me to have to put this here. People know by now. They really do.

Yay! More angst! That's what most of this story is... Well, there are some lighter parts. But anyway, be happy, because this idea _was_ going to be the last chapter. But I scrapped that for fluff, because this suited the word 'chose' better. :)

Anyway, enjoy. And please review. I'd really love to hear what you think.

13. Chose.

She knew it was hard to choose between two evils. But perhaps one of the greatest things she learned in life was that it was harder to choose between two goods.

A war changes people. When she walked off that battlefield, she was different, and she knew that. But she had almost forgotten to take into account that everyone else was different, too.

She had forgotten to take into account one Draco Malfoy.

She hadn't planned on a friendship with him. But he had changed. He had matured – something that throughout her Hogwarts days, she had been sure was impossible. He was older, and more serious, and his prejudice had disappeared.

But his maturity – his act of growing up – was not the greatest surprise she was faced with in befriending him when the war ended.

It was the fact that he showed up at her doorstep that one Thursday night, looking deeply determined, and told her that he had fallen in love with her.

And then her whole world shifted.

She loved Ron. She always had, for almost as long as she'd known him. And when he'd kissed her, during the war, she had only fallen harder.

They weren't perfect together, but they tried, one shy step at a time.

And now, she was halted.

Because, suddenly, she had to make a choice.

She'd be lying if she said she didn't like Draco. She did. And yes, it was romantically. But, it was Draco Malfoy.

And it was hard to let go of prejudices and the past.

But she didn't know if she cared about him greater than Ron. And she was terribly afraid that she did.

Her plan had always been to be with Ron. It had been her dream for years, and suddenly, out of nowhere, she didn't know if she wanted that dream.

But Ron. She loved Ron. She knew she did. And she knew he loved her. She would have a sweet, safe relationship with him, like she'd always dreamed of.

There was something that she needed about Ron. That safety. She trusted him with her life. They had a connection that came with seven years of friendship. She did not trust Draco Malfoy. She loved his mystery, his intensity, his maturity, his intelligence. Things Ron could never have. But she didn't really know him.

It had to do with time. She'd spent years in love with Ron. She'd spent years hated Malfoy. Maybe it was like finders keepers, after all. And Ron had found her first.

She needed the strength and solidity that came with years with Ron. She needed, as always, to do what was meant of her. Because it was meant of her for a reason. She wanted that life with Ron. She knew how that life would go. She could already see their family. She trusted that future.

And she didn't know what would happen with Draco Malfoy. And though some unbidden, reckless piece of her told her that was how it was meant to be, she ignored it. Because Hermione Granger liked having a plan. And Hermione Granger liked doing what was right.

And it was right to say yes. It was right to slip the ring on her finger without hesitation, and kiss the red-haired boy, and pretend that there wasn't something dead inside of her. It was right to not have regrets.

It was right to pen that grey-eyed boy's name on the wedding invitation, and then crumple it up, and cry on the kitchen floor at two in the morning. Maybe that was just one roadblock. She was following the right path.

And she never hesitated, that beautiful sunny day, as she married the man she had always dreamed of.

And, once more, Hermione Granger chose to do the right thing, and not what she wanted.


	14. Wasted

Disclaimer: If you think I own Harry Potter, why are you reading fanfiction? I'll clarify, again. I don't own it.

This could have gone angsty, and it is, a little bit, but mostly it's fluff. I had no idea what to do with the word 'wasted' but I think this turned out pretty good. To explain: when I'm talking about Hermione 'wasting herself on Draco' it's kind of like he doesn't feel that he deserves her, or that she's too good for him, and deserves someone better. Just to clarify.

Enjoy, and review, please?

14. Wasted.

He didn't understand it.

She was perfect. She was beautiful and talented and brilliant and happy. And she picked him.

Somehow, she picked broken, hopeless, useless him.

And that didn't make sense.

She could have anyone. Everyone loved her, and she wasted her time with him.

She wasted herself if she was with him. She wasted her beauty, and her talent, and her brilliance, and her happiness. He was nothing, and she wasted time with him.

She wasted her love on him.

There had to be someone more deserving of that, out there. Because he didn't deserve it, any of it. He was a mess and a monster, and there was someone out there who could make her so much happier than him.

And he wouldn't let her do it anymore. Because it wasn't fair to her. She deserved someone better than him. She deserved a happiness not tainted with secrets and lies. She deserved to hold someone's hand in front of all of her friends. She deserved to stop lying, to start finding something beautiful that didn't need to be hidden.

He wanted her to be happy without a secret like him.

And he would let her.

That was why he did it. And she still gaped at him for a full minute after he told her everything.

And then started laughing.

"Be happy without you?" she asked, laughing. "I'm not sure that's possible."

"Of course it is," he insisted. "Look, I'm not good for you. You… you're amazing, Hermione. And you deserve someone as great as you."

She looked at him, her laughter ending as she realized he was serious.

She chewed her lip for a moment, and quietly spoke. "You're right."

His heartbeat was loud and heavy in his chest. He wanted this. He wanted her to understand. Yes, he knew it would hurt him, a lot, but that was the point of being in love with her. He loved her. And that was why he had to let her go.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell.

She just looked at him with those intense brown eyes. "You're right," she repeated. "And that's why I'm with you."

He blinked, shocked and confused.

"Draco," she whispered. "I love you. I always will. I _want_ to be with you. I can't believe that I deserve you. So don't even try to tell me that you don't deserve me."

He looked at her, unsure.

She traced her finger down his arm. "I am never wasting my time with you. I want to be with you. I am never wasting myself on you, because you're a thousand times better than me. Frankly, I think you're wasting your time with me."

His jaw dropped.

She couldn't honestly think that. She couldn't really believe that she didn't deserve him.

And he was so alarmed, that all he could do was kiss her.

And it was soft, but passionate. And it felt right. Just right.

And he decided, while he pulled away to see her beautiful smile, that maybe they would just have to waste themselves on each other. Maybe they would waste time with each other for a really long time.

And maybe, he was really happy about that.


	15. Slapped

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Not at all. Not one single page. It's kind of heartbreaking, actually.

A/N: I'm sure all readers can guess what moment this is. Yes, a look at the canon moment in the third book, where Hermione slaps Draco, through the eyes of Draco Malfoy. :)

Only five more chapters until this fic will be complete! I'm happy, and sad at the same time :/

Enjoy, and I'd love it if you reviewed.

15. Slapped.

It was probably the last thing he had ever expected of her.

He was being an ass, like he usually was back then, laughing at the oaf of a Care of Magical Creatures' teacher's tears, and his own success at getting that terrifying bird thing executed. He was proud of himself, gloating over the teary-eyed and angry Gryffindors who actually bothered to care about said oaf of a Care of Magical Creatures teacher and that terrifying bird thing. He had beaten them, again.

But he hadn't expected what had followed his cruel remark.

The two male idiots of the trio were already advancing on him, but the bushy-haired bitch reached him first, and with all of her might, slapped him across the face.

It hurt. It hurt _like hell_.

But greater than the pain was the shock. She was still yelling and cursing at him, looking like she would hit him again, as the red-haired nuisance tried half-heartedly to stop her.

But it was Hermione Granger. The Hermione Granger.

The Hermione Granger who had the highest mark possible in every class. The Hermione Granger who every teacher loved. The Hermione Granger who was a goody-two-shoes, and never broke the rules. The Hermione Granger that just slapped him across the face.

She _slapped_ him.

And she wasn't even finished. Eyes still burning like fire, she whipped her wand out of her pocket, and jabbed it into his throat.

And it shocked him how much that actually terrified him.

Because it was the Hermione Granger.

And this just could not be happening. Because Hermione Granger had come alive in the space of a minute. She had never been like this before.

The rage in her amber eyes, the twist of disgust in her lips, the strength in which she was stabbing his neck with her wand… He thought she had never looked so beautiful.

Because Hermione Granger was entirely different in front of him in that moment. It all had to do with perspective.

It was easy to think her meek and annoying and useless and weak. But when she was staring him in the eye with all the hatred anyone should feel in a lifetime, it became difficult. When she looked so alive, and fierce, and brave, and strong, you had to believe that maybe, all along, she was.

Slowly, he backed away, not taking his eyes away from hers until he turned around to leave with his comrades.

When he was safely inside, he slid down the stone wall, his hand frozen on the cheek that she had touched.


	16. Watched

Disclaimer: I don't own.

This one's a bit shorter. Only a few more chapters now!

Enjoy, and please review!

16. Watched.

When he got the invitation, he gaped at it for a full ten minutes.

It wasn't entirely unexpected, but it hit him like a pile of bricks. It was too much, seeing the perfect cursive on the neat card, tied with sheer ribbon,

You are invited to the wedding of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley…

It just… It happened so quickly. And he couldn't deal with that.

He had befriended her after the war. They worked together, and it would have been hard to deal with enemies in the same department. But still. He wanted to. He had grown up throughout the war. He was more mature, and he knew better now.

He became friends with her. Actual friends.

And he didn't even mind the rest of their trio as much either.

But there was something special about her. Something about the way she looked when the sunshine from her fake window in her office hit her hair.

Something about those dark, deep brown eyes.

It took him a year to realize he was in love with her.

And by then, it was too late.

He threw the invitation in the fire.

; ; ;

He didn't know why he bothered.

He didn't know why he put on the suit, and straightened the tie, and smoothed his hair, and apparated there.

But, he did.

Because it would make her happy.

And that was why he sat in the back, and he watched her perfect wedding unfold.

He watched as the music pulsed, and she entered, so stunningly beautiful. He watched as she smiled at her groom. He watched as she took his hand.

He watched as the groom beamed at her. Because he was the one who was meant to take her hand. He loved her, and he deserved her.

And they stood there, and they said their vows. And they looked at each over with all of the love in the world in their eyes.

And no matter how much it broke his heart, he watched.

Because it made her happy.


	17. Tempted

Disclaimer: I don't own it, for the seventeenth time.

A/N: This one has a little angst, but mostly, it's really fluffy and cute for once. Yay! Happiness!

Only three more chapters!

Enjoy, and please review? I'd love to hear your thoughts. :)

17. Tempted.

He hadn't really understood the problem.

It was so much easier to act like they hated each other. He thought it was very simple that they kept pretending.

Everyone would hate them if they told them that they were together. They were supposed to hate each other. And it was so much easier to remain a secret.

But she didn't agree.

"It's not about what everyone else thinks," she told him one day, in the Room of Requirement. "It's about taking chances. I'm sick of lying, and making up excuses. I'm sick of hiding, Draco. And I won't anymore."

He still didn't get it.

"If you really love me," she whispered. "You would do this for me."

What she didn't understand was that he was afraid. He was terrified.

He didn't have many friends beyond her. And he would lose all of them the moment they knew. She trusted her friends to still love her. She trusted everyone, for no good reason.

He remained silent.

She stood up, and walked away without a word.

; ; ;

The next day, he was exhausted. He was confused. He couldn't see straight. And he just really needed to sleep.

Or a big bottle of firewhiskey.

So, he was not entirely pleased when he ran into her and her friends in the hallway.

She looked down at the floor immediately. But, a moment before she did, he caught the sadness in her eyes. And it made him freeze.

"If it isn't the rotten ferret," snarled the redhead beside her.

And in that moment, he was tempted to fire back another insult. He was tempted to curse and make fun of the boy in front of him, and walk down the hallway, and pretend that it didn't matter. He was tempted to be the person he had always grown up to be.

But he didn't.

Because he'd learned, over the course of that year, that he was more tempted to do something else.

Because Hermione Granger affected him that much. Hermione Granger tempted him to become someone entirely different, and entirely better, just for her.

And that was why he only looked her two friends in the eye and said calmly, "Weasley. Potter."

And then he looked at her.

She had raised her head, looking at him in complete shock and wonderment.

He whispered, "Hermione."

And while she gaped at him, with that tiny sparkle of happiness in her eyes, he walked on past them.

Because maybe he couldn't change all at once for her. But he would take the small steps he could until he was there.


	18. Danced

Disclaimer: I t / i s n ' t / m i n e .

A/N: A little Yule Ball sweetness. Fluff :)

Only two more chapters :D

Enjoy, and please review!

18. Danced.

It had been a very long night.

A good night, of course, but a very long night.

She was enjoying herself, – it was the Yule Ball, after all – but there had already been so many problems.

Ron was furious with her for 'consorting with the enemy', Harry was confused and kind of taking his side, and Krum didn't seem to understand anything she was saying.

She liked him, but he'd caused her a few problems tonight. And she couldn't tell what he was saying, and he was generally confusing, and she didn't like him as much as she thought she would.

Well, she liked him. A lot, frankly. But it didn't feel… right.

She didn't feel like Cinderella, like she thought she would. She'd fixed her hair, put on make-up, put on beautiful robes, and met her Prince. But he wasn't quite as perfect as she thought.

She sighed, and sat down at an empty table. She had told Viktor that she needed a break for a little while, to breathe. He'd looked a little confused, but he'd allowed it, and was dancing with a Ravenclaw, whose name she didn't know. She was fine with it. She was kind of upset with other things, and needed a break. A moment not to think.

And she blamed the idea of not thinking for what happened.

Because, out of nowhere, Draco Malfoy showed up beside her.

Quickly, she wiped away the single tear leaking from her eye. She didn't need him to see her when she was weak.

He didn't say anything though, which surprised her. He just sat there, and there was almost something sympathetic in his face.

He just sat there for a while, and then, a slow song began. And with determination in his eyes, he stood up in front of her.

And offered her his hand.

For a moment, she just didn't know what was happening.

Literally, she sat there, and asked him, blatantly confused, "What?"

She could see he wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn't. He merely bit his lip, and asked, "Would you dance with me?"

She looked at him, shocked for a moment. And then, she just decided to take a chance for once.

And she took his hand.

She danced with Draco Malfoy. She freaking danced with Draco Malfoy.

And even more astounding than that was the fact that she'd enjoyed it.

At the end of the song he kissed her hand, and told her she looked beautiful. And she stood there for a full minute as he walked away.

And even though it had been a long night, and she'd gone to a ball with a famous Quidditch player who evidently cared about her, and gotten into a serious fight with one of her best friends, she fell asleep that night still thinking about that one special dance with Draco Malfoy.


	19. Deceived

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: Well, here we are, at the second last chapter! This is the greatest number of chapters I've ever written, even though they're short chapters. Anyway, one more, and then this is over. :(

I would really, really like to thank all of you who have reviewed, it means so much to me, to see your thoughts. I'm really honoured that you took the time to review, and I'm sorry I don't write review repllies (I really need to get on that, I keep telling myself I will), but I really do want to thank you, because reading your reviews brightens my day :)

One more chapter(:

19. Deceived.

She'd never accepted it.

Harry was smart, and she understood that. But Harry also jumped to conclusions. Sometimes he was right, and sometimes he was wrong. And this time, she had been so sure he was wrong.

Because she understood psychology. She understood people. She understood the workings of people's minds. And she understood what Harry was thinking, and she understood that he wanted someone to blame.

And it was so easy to blame Malfoy.

Because Harry was scared; they all were. There was a war approaching, dangerously close. And it was simple to put people on one side or another. Automatically, Malfoy became completely evil; Harry became a saint. She knew how easy it was for everyone to be made into these new, war-influenced stereotypes.

But unlike Harry, she believed in shades of grey.

And although she knew Malfoy was bad, and did bad things, she did not believe Harry. He was not a Death Eater. It was a preposterous idea. Yes, he was headed in that direction. But he wasn't there yet.

And she knew, she could just tell, that he wasn't entirely sure about the way his life was headed. She could see that he, himself, was slightly afraid of his father. And she could see, that deep down, he wasn't entirely bad.

Maybe that was why she started talking to him. Maybe she felt sorry for him. Maybe she felt like a challenge. Maybe she was a masochist. Maybe she cared. Maybe it didn't matter.

At first, he was hostile. He didn't understand why she was attempting conversation with him, and he didn't want her to be. He hated her. He didn't want her around.

But luckily, (or not… whichever way you wanted to look at it) she didn't much care what he thought, and she didn't give up.

And then he started talking back.

And he was so… intelligent. So different from Ron and Harry. Her conversations with him stimulated her mind. He interested her. He was _fascinating._

She could never tell when exactly she fell for him.

Or when he fell for her.

She wasn't sure when the boundaries began to blend, from friends to lovers. All she knew was that it happened.

And that it was so, mind-blowingly beautiful.

Except that now, in broken retrospect, it just seemed horrific.

She didn't know when she started to take Harry's idea seriously. She couldn't be sure. But at some point, it started making sense.

And then, tonight.

She had done her job, and she had stayed outside Snape's office with Luna. But, after Flitwick collapsed, she left Luna with him for a moment, to head upstairs, and see what had happened in the commotion.

And that was when she saw him.

He was running down the staircase from the Astronomy tower, Snape dragging him by the arm.

And then, it all clicked.

Because this time, Harry had been right.

And she had fallen for lies.

And then, their eyes met. And it hit her, the intense wave of pain. Snape called something, but all she saw then was the burning grey of those eyes. The eyes that had pretended to love her, but had, all along, only been lying.

Because Draco Malfoy had deceived her into falling in love with him.

And staring into his eyes, she felt her own fill with tears. He had lied. _He had always been lying._

And for a moment, she thought she saw something there, in those grey depths. Something like… remorse. Something that whispered that he hadn't been lying, that he really had cared, but that he'd had no choice.

But it was only for a moment, and then it was gone. And she knew it was only wishful thinking, from a heart that had fallen in love with a lie.


	20. Loved

Disclaimer: For the final time, I don't own.

A/N: The end of the road for this, sadly. Here's the last chapter, with a little angst, but mostly fluff. I've really loved writing this, and I love you guys for reading and reviewing. It means so much to me.

I've had a lot of fun with this fic, but mostly, I sincerely want to thank you reviewers, who have made my day, over and over again. It's just amazing. You're all incredible, and I thank you for taking the time to leave your thoughts.

This is possibly my favourite story of mine, and it's been so much fun to write.

And this chapter... slightly longer. And sweet.

I've been postponing writing this. But here it is, and I hope you enjoy it, and please review. Thank you, to all readers and reviewers. You made this worth it.

20. Loved.

She had not planned it to happen like this.

If anything, she'd thought she'd planned out her life. She knew exactly how it would go. She loved Ron, and she would marry him, when he got up the courage to tell her that he cared, and Harry would marry Ginny, and her practically extended family, would actually become her extended family. She would be a Weasley, and that was maybe her greatest dream.

But sixth year changed everything.

She was shocked, hurt, and bewildered, when Ron started snogging – er, dating, Lavender. She'd been brave, telling him that she wanted to take him to Slughorn's Christmas party, and then, out of nowhere, he had this giggly, frilly, irritating girlfriend.

And yes, she often went off to be on her own. She didn't want to be around him. Around _them._

And so, she spent her time in the library, her haven. And that was where she came across _him._

She doesn't entirely know how their civil conversations began. She really doesn't. All she knows is that he looked tired, and broken, and he didn't bother insulting her, and somewhere along the line, she felt sorry for him. So she began talking to him. And when she talked to him… she got caught in his words. He was interesting, and intelligent, and honest, and mysterious, and he entranced her.

And then, somehow, one day, it just… changed. She supposed she'd developed feelings for him somewhere along the line, but she'd certainly buried it. And she couldn't remember what they were talking about, in that shadowy, well-hidden table of the library, but suddenly, he just looked at her, with all this pent-up emotion, and just kissed her. And it was raw, and real, and honest, and meaningful.

And her world shifted.

And no longer did they go to that table of the library; instead they met in the Room of Requirement. Because it was forbidden, and wrong. And because there was no bed in the library.

; ; ;

She had realized, vaguely, that it would have to end. It could not go on forever. It couldn't. But she hadn't expected the ending, either.

It was quite close to the end of the year, and her head was full of this, and exams, and everything about the Horcruxes, that Harry was learning from Dumbledore.

And when he walked into the room, he looked dead. His eyes were dark, and sharp, and he looked pained, and when she smiled at him, his face twisted.

And then he started talking.

He didn't want to say it, she knew that. But it still hurt, when he told her it couldn't go on like this, it _couldn't_, and he wanted it to, but he had no choice. He'd never had any choice and he was wrong to find anything with her, he was wrong to hope, he was wrong to want this. And it had to end, because he was wrong for her, and they were on opposite sides of a war, that was coming _fast_, and he was so goddamn sorry, because he wanted this too, and he felt horrible. And he didn't have any more choices, and he hoped she didn't hate him, but he kind of hoped she did, because he deserved it. And he really cared about her. He really did. And he thought that maybe he even loved her, but nowadays, that just wasn't enough.

And he just turned around, and walked out.

And she'd thought she'd gone through pain before. She'd been through a lot. But nothing like this. This ripped her apart. Because he'd walked away from something that mattered. And she felt like a broken mirror, sharp, and lost, and made up of only shards.

; ; ;

She didn't expect to see him after the war. She didn't want to. She knew it wasn't his fault what side he'd born on, and what choices he'd been forced into, but it didn't mean she didn't like it.

She wasn't going to deny, though, that she still had feelings for him.

And then came the fateful day, when she ran into him, after four years. It was going to happen one day.

It was a miracle they hadn't before that day, both with official Ministry jobs. In fact, with such a small building, and jobs only three floors apart, one would think they were _avoiding each other._

And seeing him again… it all crashed back into her. The memories. The moments. The truth, the feelings, the intimacy, the passion, the _love._

And this time around, he started talking to her.

She ignored it for the longest time, his attempts at friendship. They could not do that. And then, he had the nerve to ask her out to dinner. As if that could work.

And after awhile, she kind of exploded. It had been months of his attempts, and suddenly, he was asking her, _why not? _And she was not good with that question, because she wasn't all that sure of the answer.

So she began yelling at him. About how this was not meant to happen. Why not? _Why not?_ Because they were supposed to hate each other, and she couldn't go back to being a stupid, idealistic teenager, and how she felt like she hated him, because this was not the future she was supposed to want. And she hated him, _she hated him,_ because somehow, she was still in love with him.

And, so she stood there, pretty proud of her speech. Yes, she'd come up with something. There was a good reason.

It took her a moment to realize all the flaws in her _why not_ speech, but by then, his lips were on hers, and she couldn't find it in her to care.

; ; ;

She remembered all of this, when he looked at her like that, his grey eyes so very vulnerable, down on one knee before her. All of this flew through her, as he just looked at her, important words already spoken, eyes filled with the one thing that, throughout her childhood, she never imagined he'd feel for her.

_Love._

And so, she whispered,

"Yes."


End file.
